


i speak astronomy

by bigstupidjellyfish



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: (ssshhhh she's fine dont worry), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bondage, Casual Sex, Cunnilingus, Dom!Gideon, F/F, Feel good Porn, Fingerfucking, Implied Switching, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Suspension Bondage, bdsm without s and m parts, harrow's canonical habit of fainting makes an appearance, sub!harrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigstupidjellyfish/pseuds/bigstupidjellyfish
Summary: harrow just wants to forget about her college degree and ianthe, and unwind in someone's strong, caring hands
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 57
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

"I've been informed that you're experienced with unusual and extreme sexual practices."

Gideon almost spat out a mouthful of disgustingly saccharine grape soda, her face freezing in mid-gulp and not betraying her with an embarrassment of bulging eyes and mouth hanging open like an idiot. She peered at the girl across the kitchen table from behind her aviators, a brief glimpse of her amber eyes instantly drawing the attention of her potential date like a magnet. 

Harrow, the potential date, gripped her opened but untouched soda can like it was a primed grenade and she was counting seconds before it blew up, her spidery fingers with short, painted black nails clawing into purple cylinder nervously. She was a lanky, angular woman that looked like she grew up in a family of goths that homeschooled her in such a way that prevented her from learning there were other colors than black in this world. The only relatively bright spots on her were a seriously dope print on her tshirt, depicting human ribcage grown with pallid pink flowers, and the diamond of her face with a little too pale highlighter applied generously to her high cheeks. Her anxiousness didn't find a reflection on that fascinating moon-like face at all, even when Harrow jerkily moved her hand up to flick her short black (big surprise) hair behind her ear, demonstrating a row of metallic ringlets and plain studs on the shell. It was just a natural state of Harrowhark's face stuck perpetually in bitchy contempt with lips pressed together in a thin line of black lipstick. She was examining Gideon's face openly, her abyssally dark, unreadable eyes adorned with thick lashes and obsessively perfect eyeliner fixed on Gideon's face with inquisitive interest.

Studying Harrowhark as she was studying Gideon in response, Gideon suddenly understood the reason behind Camilla's clippy, slightly apologetic _"Good luck"_ she uttered when she invited Gideon to the kitchen, away from the rest of the party, introduced her to Harrow and swiftly evaporated from the sight. She could have at least warned Gideon, but- Ugh. Her friends were the best in the best aspects and the worst in the worst aspects, undeniably.

"That's the least exciting way of describing, babe," Gideon said, her lips stretching in a habitual grin.

Harrow's eyebrows furiously met together in a frown as her face crunched in a mask of offense taken.

"That's a perfectly functional way of describing it," she said, sour about not being able to make an emphasis on how exactly it was perfectly functional by taking a sip of the soda. Its scent of artificial grapes, stuffy and sugary, was eating at her nostrils from the inside even at a distance. She'd honestly rather down a cup of acid. "And I'm not your babe."

"Sure thing, sugarlips," Gideon corrected herself without missing a beat. She wondered to herself: was this Harrow's idea of _hitting on_ people? It was almost adorable.

Harrow rolled her eyes. She had a nagging thought that this whole endeavor was dumb beyond imagining, and frankly, pride was the only thing that prevented her from getting up, pouring the soda down the kitchen sink and fleeing the party altogether right now. This Gideon was charming in the most fuckboy-ish ways and looking at her crooked smile was making Harrow's right temple hurt in a weird way. But there was also this small, vindictive desire to prove her friend (who was, unfortunately, Ianthe) that she wasn't a prudish, sulky bitch who was clinically unable to relax or, in Ianthe's words, do anything that could qualify as even remotely close to interesting. Doing things in spite of Ianthe was one of few joys left in Harrow's miserable undergrad life.

She couldn't do anything about the ongoing pressure of the final semester. Her thesis hasn't been coming together as neatly as she wanted it to - as she knew she could do, reasonably confident in her intellectual capabilities, - and it was stressing her the fuck out. She couldn't argue against the "sulky bitch" part either, and knowing this made her sulk slightly more. The rest, though? Hell, she was willing to work with it, and seeing a wrinkle of doubt on Ianthe's face when Harrow coldly agreed to a proposition to find her a one-night stand date was already worth pulling it all off.

"And how would you describe it?" Harrow asked to support the conversation.

Gideon's grin grew bigger, which seemed impossible until it happened. Harrow considered that it looked kinda insufferable and very punchable.

The entirety of Gideon seemed to be constructed around this single trait, very deliberately. Her wide, oddly crooked smile complemented her square jaw, and that jaw went along nicely with the wide bridge of her nose with a slight bump from a fracture that didn't heal up properly in the past. Hair of deep, intensely red color were combed in a fauxhawk, carelessly messy just enough to be tasteful, but temples seemed due to another shave for some time now. Harrow did take a note how the same unnaturally ginger coloration of the roots indicated that Gideon didn't dye her hair. And she was large - a whole head taller than Harrow, with long, gorgeous legs outlined obscenely by skinny jeans, and seemingly even larger than she actually was because of the leather jacket that she decided to leave on indoors for some ungodly reason. Broad shoulders hunched, she rested her frame on the elbows on the table, leaning towards Harrow across the it.

"I prefer saying that I like to threaten pretty girls with good time in bondage," Gideon responded, readily demonstrating her canines, slightly bigger than incisors. 

Harrow's eyes stopped at Gideon's long fingers, thumb and index holding her soda can by the rim with unusual delicacy, as if she was afraid to crush it in her hand. She swallowed, feeling something inside her tying into a tight knot, looked back at Gideon's face and was met with her own reflections staring at her from Gideon's aviators, taken aback with the hunger seen clearly on her painted face. She wished Gideon took the glasses off. It seemed unfair, with her desire and anticipation naked, and Gideon's - shielded by a pair of stupid shades.

At least Gideon, for all her douchey expressions and terrible flirting, was as upfront about the endgoal of this as Harrow, and Harrow appreciated the direct approach.

"From what Sex Pal told me about you, I assumed you're either some sort of a nun or a virgin or both," Gideon continued suddenly, "but unless there is some sort of Church of Hot Goth GF I don't know about, you're not a nun, right?" 

It took Harrow a hot second to reverse-engineer that by _Sex Pal_ Gideon must have meant her long time online friend and coincidentally Ianthe's contact who could "introduce her to some hot neighbors in the area", _Palamedes Sextus_. It was a truly bizarre and frankly improbable situation where all three of women knew this one particular nerd while neither of them even suspected he was an acquaintance or a friend to all of them. Nonetheless, his involvement was a pleasant surprise for dubious Harrow, because Palamedes was the friend she could trust to actually know someone decent. Even if that someone turned out to be Gideon, who, by the way, looked like an absolute, smug asshole.

Harrow shook her head.

"I'm neither a nun nor a virgin," she said, sneering impulsively.

Gideon huffed a laugh, throwing her head up a little, and Harrow caught a glimpse of of her odd eyes flashing with gold from behind the aviators again. 

"Have you tried these "extreme and unusual sexual practices" before though?" Gideon asked easily, then cracked another smile: "Gee, what a mouthful. Do you always talk like that?"

She had quite a pleasure to watch the involuntary blush trying to break through Harrow's pale make up.

"No," the potential goth girlfriend admitted through teeth, admirably battling with rising embarrassment. "And yes, occasionally, I fancy the verbose speech as a way of efficient communication." 

That was said in snappish, almost acidic tone that Gideon understood as Harrow being sarcastic and couldn't help but feel charmed. She had a soft spot for prickly princesses (though Harrow resembled a bone witch more than anything, Gideon mentally corrected herself). And looking at Harrow's thin, delicate wrists that never met silk ropes and her deep set, impossibly black eyes with signs of perpetual exhaustion around them, Gideon made an easy conclusion that this particular goth princess needed nothing less than being held in strong, caring hands while being sternly, tenderly told to chill the fuck out.

She could provide.

"Alright, so," Gideon cleared her throat. She put the soda can away, feeling a small ripple of nervousness, the usual sign of her meeting someone she fancied. "Let's clear things up before anything. I'm not an escort, just so you know." ("I had assumed as much," Harrow replied evenly.) "You're been correctly _informed_ ," she involuntarily mimicked Harrow's tone here, "about my expertise though, so if you want to get in touch with your kinky inner goddess, I can be your company in these exciting adventures together."

Another one of those godawful, self-assured grins. Harrow narrowed her eyes, waiting for an inevitable "but" to come up, except that it didn't. Instead, she watched Gideon taking her aviators off in one swift, somewhat theatrical motion, and the moment after she was pinned to her seat by Gideon's honey-colored eyes. As dramatic as it sounded, it felt like the mirror shield between them dropped, and Harrow's impression of the girl before her has been completed as she studied these irises warmed by the dim lights of the kitchen. Some muscle in her ribcage started to tremble, embarrassingly so.

"As I've mentioned," Harrow said through a knot in her throat, "I'm not familiar with these... kinks," she forced herself to speak plainly, albeit at the cost of sounding bored. "What do you suggest?"

Gideon's smug grin softened into something... sincere.

"That's what you're supposed to tell me, sugarlips," she responded, her eyebrows raised in bewilderment. "What you wanna try, your no-nos, your safeword, roleplays you think about as you lay in your bed at night trying to sleep, and I'm here to make sure you're satisfied."

Harrow stared at her silently, and Gideon felt her heart tugged at with tenderness mixed with swelling anticipation. She wanted to wreck her already, wanted to see her writhing in her hands.

"You're the one calling the shots, Harrowhark," Gideon tried her name on her lips, and liked it a lot. And she liked the way Harrow looked at her right now, waiting to be coaxed into admitting what she wanted, so she went on: "Of course I have my hard nos as well. My preference is BDSM without S and M parts, but I'm rather flexible when I'm in charge - comes with being unable to refuse a pretty girl begging me nicely."

Gideon patiently awaited for a response that wasn't coming. Harrow's face was on fire, her fingers frozen around the can of soda she still hadn't put her lips to, as if it was poison to her. Her potential date, as observed objectively, just had a BSOD.

"How about we exchange phone numbers, and you," Gideon said gently, "do your research, figure out what you want - or _if_ you want it - and then we meet again and discuss it? No pressure."

Harrow's eyes met hers, tension in her expression relieving slightly. She swallowed visibly, but otherwise got herself together.

"I would like to be threatened with good time in bondage," she eventually found her voice, and Gideon instantly beamed at her, satisfied with Harrow's admittance. "But you're right, I need some time to do... research."

"Then we meet again?"

"We meet again, Gideon." Agitated from her own words, Harrow carelessly took a sip of her soda and immediately jumped out from her seat to spit it out into the sink. The taste was so fucking bad.

Gideon watched her future goth girlfriend with an alarming feeling of her insides melting from adoration.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im cursed with writing absurdly long and detailed porn scenes
> 
> and no, it's not the end of the action yet

Boldly hiding her nervousness, Harrow rang the doorbell and patiently awaited for the owner of the house to open the door. She experienced a state that could be compared to having a pack of misbehaving squirrels doing backflips inside her stomach for the entire day, and thankfully, hearing the footsteps approaching started to calm them down. At least those backflips were more due to excitement and anticipation than anything else. 

Before agreeing to meeting her potential date for the second time to negotiate the details, Harrow casually interrogated Palamedes about this Gideon he apparently knew well and was good friends with, and that he never thought to tell Harrow about. Sextus patiently answered her paranoid inquiries, she learned a whole bunch of completely useless, but placatingly innocent stuff and was ultimately assured that if anything goes wrong, Palamedes will avenge her death as soon as possible. ("Nonagesimus, there is really no need to dramatize it like that. Gideon is a harmless dork and a softie," were the words of assurance from him, and never hearing words like _"dork"_ or _"softie"_ from Palamedes before, Harrow had no other option but to believe he had a reason to use them sincerely.) The meeting itself (or _date_ , as Gideon put it) went... better than Harrow expected. Even though the most substantial memory Harrow carried out of it was about Gideon's eyes lit with golden fire and one corner of her mouth constantly moving up as she cracked her hideous jokes at her.

The door opened, and it was like the memories stepped out of her brain to meet her, which, well, was quite literally the thing.

"Hey, sweetheart," Gideon grinned at her widely and invited her to her house with a courteous gesture.

Harrow followed the invitation silently and, once she recollected herself from the brightness of Gideon's cat-like eyes, was stunned with another view. Gideon greeted her wearing baggy cargo pants, heavy combat boots and a simple black tanktop exposing her bare, extremely muscular arms. Harrow's overanalytical brain quickly estimated that she couldn't lock her fingers around Gideon's forearm, and much less so - around her bicep. 

There was an entry in Harrow's brain of Gideon mentioning that she worked as a blacksmith full time (neat), and attended fencing classes in free time (hot), but somehow that didn't prepare Harrow to see these activities so clearly expressed in Gideon's tall, stately physique. She looked like she did heavy lifting for fun and did pushups with girls sitting on her back just to impress them. Her eyes followed Harrow's dark gaze glued to the shape and curve of her shoulders and arms, and Gideon winked and flexed an arm at her knowingly.

In other words, Harrow needed a moment.

"You sure about make up?" Gideon asked in the meanwhile, keeping her tone playful, emboldened by Harrow's immediate, bodily interest in her. "It's gonna get ruined."

Black eyes darted to Gideon's amber ones sharply.

"Is that not the plan, Gideon?" Harrow asked, narrowing her pretty eyes. She did go easier on make up this time after lengthy consideration - nothing like her usual warpaint, only eyeliner and lipstick.

"Oooh, okay, we're going this like that, I like it," Gideon stammered in response, getting agitated. There was something inherently provocative in Harrow's attitude, in her snarky remarks and sharp tongue, that made Gideon want to needle at her and find out where this goth nun would give in, or worse, find out where she, Gideon, would do the same.

There was a moment of silence loaded with tension between them, standing together in the hallway that Harrow did not bother examining. Gideon crossed arms on her chest, towering over Harrow, her slanted grin softened by the warm expression in her eyes, lit with patient awaiting for the cue. Harrow was very glad that she insisted on Gideon ditching her aviators for the entirety of the session. She recalled her safeword and forced herself to calm down. Then, after a considerable pause, she finally said:

"To the floor."

Gideon lurched towards her instantly, uncoiling from her relaxed position and colliding with Harrow bodily. The movement was so quick that it felt as if Gideon simply teleported to her, her arms grabbing Harrow by sides and turning her around. From there, she gripped Harrow's wrists, and Harrow, struggling to break free, realized with a rush of adrenaline that no matter how she pulled and twisted her hands, she simply could not move them. An image from memory: Gideon's fingers cautiously holding the rim of a soda can; an explanation: her enormous strength prompting her to be delicate then. She was not delicate in this moment with Harrow, battling her attempts to resist with implacable steadiness of an industrial press machine, forcing her to bend her elbows and putting her small, stubbornly balled into fists hands against the stomach, wrists crossed together. Harrow was utterly helpless to stop this advance when Gideon, satisfied with her hold on her, yanked her close, back to chest, and pressed her mouth to Harrow's neck with an excited wet exhale.

The whole maneuver took mere seconds, it was embarrassing: Harrow did want a takedown, but the execution where she barely put up any fight wasn't how she imagined it, and so she tried again, pissed off. Gideon did not mind, inexorable in the face of Harrow's continuous struggle to break free, making Harrow feel even smaller in her hands, surrounded. She writhed and lurched her body in any direction that gave an illusion of an escape, trying to find a steadier footing and swerve out of Gideon's hands like a hagfish caught between rocks. Given an opportunity, she even elbowed Gideon under the ribs (it impressed Gideon to no end: she thought that if only Harrow had more strength in her non-existent muscles, that sharp elbow would stab her squarely in the spleen and cause some serious damage). But in the end, the harder Harrow struggled, the harder Gideon gripped her as Harrow tried to find some sort of leverage against Gideon's firm, immovable frame which resulted only pressing closer to her, adhering them together in an exothermic chemical reaction.

Gideon calmly let Harrow go wild until the smaller woman was exhausted, admiring the violence of Harrow's attempts to break free. It was as if Harrow wasn't concerned with the strength disparity at all, and there was a very healthy suspicion that the moment Gideon gave in just a tiny bit, Harrow would try to twist out of her grip and bite her on the way out several times, possibly giving her rabies in the process. Feeling all the sharp angles of Harrow's almost weightless body against her chest, Gideon got pinpricks of excitement run over her skin. She half-expected Harrow to make small talk, was prepared to have a cup of tea before beginning the show, when Harrow dropped the cue and Gideon had to act on it, so unwilling to disappoint her with hesitation.

They only just had started, and both were already out of breath from each other.

She moved one hand to hold both Harrow's wrists together (Harrow immediately made a weak try against it, and Gideon loudly huffed a laugh into her ear - she didn't even break a sweat yet), and let her freed hand roam over Harrow's stomach and chest.

Harrow watched that long-fingered palm roughly go over her chest, grabbing at her shirt and bra under it, and in the same moment she felt Gideon's knee pushing between her thighs from behind. She made an indignant noise, too paralyzed with wild rush of adrenaline to move, only her legs twitching to move together and close, useless.

"Easy as shit, Harrow," Gideon whispered into her ear hotly, numerous metallic rings adorning it touching the redhead's lips with tiny specks of cold.

Harrow prepared some remark, tensing with her entire body and straining her hands as she tried out Gideon's grip on her wrists, and Gideon readily cut her off. She pressed her hand to Harrow's lower belly, shortly sliding over the skin bared between the shirt and her pants, and dragged down between Harrow's legs in a gesture of deliberate possessiveness. The touch made Harrow stand up on her toes as no other direction of movement was free for her, but it did shit anyway: Gideon just palmed her inner thighs and went over the crotch with played nonchalance, her other hand keeping Harrow's convulsions at bay. She ended up with her head lolling to the side, almost as if resting it on Gideon's shoulder, stunned with realization that this was enough to make her blood rush to her lower regions.

Listening to Harrow's strained breath attentively and battling with the sheer glee she felt from overpowering Harrow while still having an impression that this wasn't an easy fight, Gideon took a brief pause in her endeavors. This was a crucial moment, to let Harrow immerse in the situation and decide for herself if she wanted out, and it was up to Gideon to provide this window before escalating. She kept her hold on Harrow's wrists steady and left her free hand to think for itself as it traveled up under Harrow's shirt, inching fingers under her bra with clear intent.

Slow and easy, Gideon reminded herself, this was this goth nun's first time.

"Disappointing," Harrow rasped, looking up with her head on Gideon's shoulder, "if that's how intense and interesting it gets, I think I'll be better off _studying_."

Wow, that was just insulting.

"Pfft- We just started, Harrow, hold your skeleton horses," Gideon laughed. The remark stung, and she gave in to the provocation, shoving Harrow's bra up and palming her small breast in her hand. That gave her the incredible feeling of Harrow shivering with her whole body against her, and she quickly followed the impulse to move her hand down and unceremoniously shove it down Harrow's pants.

"I said," Harrow's voice was shaky but it was unclear if it was because she had Gideon's hand in her panties or because she was concentrating on sounding as bitchy as possible, " _to the floor_."

Gideon waited a second, admiring how Harrow, riled up, attempted to ride her knee. She grinned:

"To the floor it is."

***

Harrow had some time to examine Gideon's living room now.

She had a good guess that the main bulk of the furniture wasn't supposed to be cramped in just one corner miserably and was moved out of the way of the action. Otherwise it would have been really dumb, in Harrow's opinion, to keep coffee table, the sofa and the chairs so untastefully glued to the desk with the gaming console and the TV. There were things that didn't seem out of place and that she could note from her position: shelves with what looked like an impressive collection of comic books (she couldn't help but sneer at that), glass displays full of action figures, and arrays of swords, daggers and some intricate metallic decorations with unclear purpose fixed on the walls. She wondered briefly if those were Gideon's own works.

But mostly she was simmering in a weird mix of anger, embarrassment, arousal and anger and embarrassment due to arousal.

A suspiciously looking hook on the ceiling caught her eye, right above her, and Harrow deduced that it wasn't really a hook for lamps. 

She shivered, imagining she was freezing: her brain connected "naked" and "on the floor" together and sent her body signals to anticipate cold drafts, even though Gideon's house apparently had some amazing insulation and decent heating. Calming herself down, she tried the leather cuffs on her hands (tough luck), and her ankles (even tougher luck, even though she kind of could draw her knees together), noting that nothing else was straining her body and it wasn't even that uncomfortable, that there wasn't anyone even looking at her in the moment.

It helped a little. Then she got pissed again that Gideon really just dragged her to the living room, put her on the floor, undressed her with alarming efficiency and then freaking cuffed her arms and legs to huge metal rings just casually embedded between parquet planks ("They're removable," Gideon explained it to her while battling with Harrow's attempts to kick her right into that lopsided grin), and freaking _left_ her here ("Shit, I forgot the lube and other stuff. I'll be right back, babe," Gideon said then while Harrow was drilling her with eyes full of melting rage at her). Fucking audacity of that woman. Harrow was mentally preparing the list of insults and complaints for the moment when Gideon returned - what was even taking her so long? - and-

The sound of heavy combat boots stomping on the wooden floor suddenly made Harrow flinch in the cuffs.

"Kept you waiting, huh?"

The owner of these stupid boots approached Harrow, naked on the floor, hands cuffed above her head, legs spread apart and cuffed at her ankles. Harrow watched as she placed the bottle of lube onto the floor next to her, the other stuff - vibrator head of a classic magic wand - sticking out of one of the side pockets of her cargo pants. Gideon had a face of a cat preparing to play with a mouse, her yellow eyes lit with eager anticipation, and Harrow felt so small compared to her, again, even smaller than before, at complete mercy of a woman who threatened her with good time. Sweat pored on her forehead, and Harrow felt her heart beating in her throat, and at the same time - heat pulsing in her cunt in sync with it.

Knowing well the effect of her appearance from this particular angle, Gideon deliberately made a full circle around Harrow, stopped near Harrow's middle and then demonstratively stepped over her, looking down directly at Harrow's face. Her feet placed on the floor by Harrow's sides, she watched with deep satisfaction how Harrow's obsidian eyes widened and went up. Harrow's breaths deepened as she stopped her gaze at the boots first, then traveled higher as she was hit with the realization that it was naked and incapacitated her versus fully clothed and unrestrained Gideon. Gideon made sure that in the end of her journey up Harrow was met with her the most on-brand shit-eating grin.

Looking her in the eyes, Harrow visibly shuddered again and had to bite her lower lip, small white teeth bothering her painted black mouth.

"Gotta admit, you look hella cute," Gideon could not resist saying out loud. She loved it when she could rile up a woman like that without even touching her.

She half-expected Harrow to hiss something snarky in response, but instead, Harrow sucked a deep breath in, her eyes turning slightly glassy. Gideon felt an electric jolt of satisfaction rushing through her already - Harrow was getting into it, and she couldn't wait to put her hands onto this frail, slender body and mold it like clay and drive Harrow absolutely insane.

Gideon knelt on the floor, straddling her and reaching out her hand to cup Harrow's cheek. Harrow was biting her lower lip so hard that it must have hurt, so Gideon could not help herself, brushing her thumb on it gently, urging her to unclench her jaw a little and smearing the black lipstick on her chin at the same time. Harrow's eyes were black holes, irises and pupils of the same shade of abyssal void, indistinguishable, it was hard to tell her immediate reaction to the touch just by looking into them. But she was twitchy and fretful under Gideon, her lower lip trembling slightly under Gideon's thumb as she let out a shaky exhale, her ribcage strained between Gideon's thighs. Letting the weight of her body press Harrow down just a little harder than necessary, Gideon took her face in both hands, looking directly at her, and then dragged her hands down Harrow's neck and bare chest. 

She could count Harrow's rips with her fingers as she went over her sides, subtly checking if Harrow was ticklish (she wasn't - a shame), then returned them up to knead her breasts. They were small, each completely covered by Gideon's large palms. Gideon squeezed and rubbed them, feeling Harrow's nipples hardening under her hands, and then pinched and pulled the nipples with her fingers.

Harrow attempted to arch her spine, her body rising up after Gideon's hands, but she was pressed down to the floor, Gideon's mass and heat grounding her and holding in place even better than the cuffs on her limbs. She strained her wrists, the natural response to an intimate touch - Gideon was really, _really good_ with her long fingers dancing on her chest, playing with nipples and finding sensitive places on the sides of her boobs and clavicles and neck, - hindered by the cuffs, preventing her from reflexively reaching out to put her arms around Gideon's broad shoulders. It was maddening. She was aflame with desire to fight against the restraints, and yet the very fact that she was demoted to a passive role to merely receive that igniting touch only fanned those fires harder. Gideon above her looked at her with intense focus, pupils wide and rimmed with warm gold, jaw jutted forward, and even that habitual curve of her mouth looked more concentrated rather than mocking. A stray lock of her red hair was falling over her eyes, and she kept shaking it off, unwilling to take a hand off Harrow to tuck it in place even just for a second.

One of Gideon's hand ended up sliding up her neck again, fingertips following the line of her jaw angle, brushing delicately over her sharp chin, thumb going over that worried with teeth lower lip once more and leaving more black lipstick stains on Harrow's cheeks. She pressed the thumb between Harrow's lips next, and surprised, Harrow parted them for her with a noise, letting Gideon push her finger into her mouth and brush it against the upper row of her sharp teeth and her hot and wet tongue. Harrow, being the good and obedient girl, wrapped her lips around Gideon's thumb and gave a half-hearted attempt at sucking on it, not due to the lack of enthusiasm, but rather because this was the moment when she started moaning under the pressure of Gideon's expert touch on her chest.

Gideon did not let her to get used to just that, moving herself off Harrow to sit on her knees between Harrow's legs. Her hands followed the motion, still on Harrow's body, blunt fingernails dragging down her chest and stomach all the way to the thighs, leaving quickly reddening trails behind and making Harrow emit a quiet, soft _"Fuck"_ from the unexpected change in stimulation, screwing her eyes tight. Just as suddenly, Gideon switched again, rubbing her palms on Harrow's thighs in long, sensual motions. She patiently awaited until Harrow got over this minor sensory overload, her touch getting lighter as she inched her fingers closer to the inner areas of Harrow's legs, and prepared her best grin to the moment when Harrow could open her eyes again.

Upon doing that, Harrow was met with the sight of Gideon sitting on knees between her twitching legs, looming over her, looking her straight into eyes with the worst fucking smirk ever. Confirming that she got Harrow's attention, Gideon instantly dropped her gaze. Now she demonstratively watched her own hands pressed firmly against Harrow's inner thighs, thumbs swiping up the labia majora shortly and then spreading them apart. Harrow involuntarily tried to close her knees, to no use, not just naked now - exposed completely before Gideon's amber eyes devouring her whole.

She trembled, both from the way Gideon was watching her and the way she was touching her, short links between cuffs and metal rings shuffling with clink-clanking noise as she pulled her hands and legs. Gideon's long fingers kept her spread, giving Gideon an amazing view on her vulva - small, pink labia minora with the swelling nub of the clitoris already showing itself from between them, a shiny smear of lubrication already dripping from her opening. Quirking her eyebrow up, Gideon assertively brushed her thumbs up her cunt, catching a little bit of the lubrication and sliding on it easily, rubbing the clitoris between her fingers up and down several times, causing Harrow's involuntarily squirm up and down in sync with her motions.

Hearing a soft, barely audible _"Ahh"_ of Harrow's exhale, Gideon looked up, shaking the hair out of her vision again. Harrow struggled to keep her head up to see how Gideon teased her, short black locks sticking to her forehead from sweat, mouth with half-ruined lipstick parted and curved in capricious expression of sheer want. Gideon smirked at her openly, pleased with these initial results, and decided it was time for something more thorough.

Next thing Harrow knew was the feeling of Gideon's fingers sliding up between her labia, slick with her own lubrication, fingertips brushing around her clit and rubbing it hard, at the same moment as Gideon pinched one of her nipples with her other hand. Though the trick itself wasn't anything mindblowing, the additional factors of her being unable to move freely, of Gideon watching her react with a full-body spasm gleefully, of knowing that Gideon could do that and so much more to her, they added to the intensity of sensations, turning up the heat going wild in Harrow's lower belly and making her gasp for air and try to rub herself on Gideon's fingers.

Gideon indulged her, circling her agile fingers around her clitoris and finding the patterns that made Harrow twitch and moan from stimulation.

"I like that you're so wet already," Gideon said huskily. "Eager," she added with one of her awful grins as she briefly brought her hand up in the air, demonstrating her fingers covered in the lubrication generously. Harrow felt an involuntary spasm in her cunt around nothing, longing to feel those long fingers inside her. If Gideon was even half as good with finding her G-spot as with her clit, then-

As if hearing her thoughts, Gideon nonchalantly reached for the bottle of lube and coated her fingers in it thoroughly, and then brought her fingers back to where Harrow needed them to be. She shuddered at the contact - a blob of lube touching her labia was still cool, Gideon was that quick to resume her fingerwork after this short hitch, - and felt instantly so much wetter as Gideon first spread the additional lubrication between her legs and then decisively pressed her finger into her, sliding into her cunt, nice and easy. Instantly hungry for more, the sole slender finger barely enough to bother all the receptors in her walls thirsty for friction and stretch, Harrow squeezed Gideon's finger hard, her whole body tense with chase for stimulation. It was like Gideon knew, sensing this hunger from the way corners of Harrow's mouth went down and her brows knit together in a frown, because immediately, Gideon switfly added another finger to glide in and out her and pressed her thumb to Harrow's clit so it wasn't left lonely and wanting.

Working her hand, Gideon watched how Harrow took her fingers, pushing her hips onto them, and had a moment to admire this tender, slick cunt that looked so lickable, making Gideon's mouth fill with drool whenever she felt Harrow shiver as her thumb flicked her clit. Harrow's ribs heaved under her palm, breaths ragged and interrupted every so often by a wheezing moan each time Gideon crooked her fingers inside Harrow and pressed the tips of her fingers against the anterior wall in circular motion. Harrow's sharp elbows and knees twitched, straining the cuffs and suggesting quite strongly that if not for restraints, Harrow would be going wild with her limbs now, and Gideon couldn't help but find it super cute - and maybe slightly dangerous. Harrow seemed like the type prone to scratching and biting, and- Okay, wow, stop, if Gideon got distracted by that right now, that would be a disaster.

In order to further divert herself from that line of thought, Gideon took her hand off Harrow's chest and retrieved from her pocket the least graceful, yet the most effective sex toy ever invented, the clunky and ugly white and blue magic wand.

"I had a moment of panic when I thought I forgot to charge it," Gideon said in response to Harrow's tense gaze following her hand with the vibrator. She waved it in the air, and snorted when Harrow's eyes darted after its motions like a cat's - after a laser pointer. "I imagine that would be pretty damn awkward to have a vibe dying mid session. Not that it has _ever_ happened to me, I assure you," she added, trying too keep her tone playful because she wanted Harrow to relax again more than anything in the world.

To her surprise, Harrow scoffed. She zeroed on Gideon's face and said:

"I don't see a problem. You have perfectly functional hands and maybe _too perfectly functional_ mouth. It would be easy for you to compensate for any sort of technical failure on the vibe's part."

The slight tremble in Harrow's voice and the fact that Gideon still had her vagina stuffed with fingers paradoxically only added to the impression of languid bitchiness Harrow obviously went for.

"Ho-ho," Gideon huffed an incredulous laugh, the kind that would make her lower her aviators to peer over them, but without them, she just sorta bulged her eyes and snorted on her own inhale. So uncool of her.

Harrow put her head down onto the floor, pretendingly comfortable, her hips still moving in short jerky pattern as she attempted to ride Gideon's fingers without being able to leverage herself on her feet properly. She looked so damn smug, with an acidic smirk on that mouth that no ruined lipstick could make less vicious, that Gideon again had a completely unnecessary image of Harrow dominating the fuck out of her.

Ah. Maybe some other day.

Gideon shook the thought away once again and took her fingers out of Harrow, regretting to lose the feeling of her hot and tight muscles, bringing Harrow's attention to it instantly. Harrow looked up like an alarmed bird and saw Gideon lifting the wand up like a rapier before a duel and flicking the switch on. Quiet sound of its motors coming to life filled the room.

Harrow watched Gideon scrambling up from her place between her legs and leaning forward. She thought Gideon was going to stand up, but was completely taken aback when instead, Gideon put her freaking knee onto Harrow's sternum and _pressed her down_. The firm leather of her boot felt rough against Harrow's bare skin on her stomach and side. Gideon balanced her weight very well, most of her body mass leaning onto her other leg peacefully planted on the floor next to Harrow, but the pressure on the chest that Harrow felt was very real and- and very exciting. She looked up straight into Gideon's face and her insanely yellow eyes, breath stuck in her throat, realizing again how she was at Gideon's _complete mercy_ and getting frightened momentarily, but Gideon gave another lopsided smile, warm and reassuring and still so freaking punchable.

"Get wrecked, Harrow," Gideon said, towering over her. She put her hand behind her, pressing the head of the wand between Harrow's legs, right at the sweet spot where the vibrations rumbled through her clit back and forth, threatening to wring out a quick, involuntary orgasm out of her very soon.

Harrow writhed in the cuffs, tormented by the sheer delight of her sensations.

She felt very threatened and was having really good time.


	3. Chapter 3

Gideon had to check on Harrow several times while she was busy with putting ropes over her body. Her date was spacing out, black eyes sparkless and unfocused, her limbs slack and shaking as Gideon wrapped the rope around the joints carefully. Despite that, to each of Gideon's inquiries if she was alright or needed a break Harrow responded with an irritated grunt and eventually snapped at her.

"I'm not a child, Gideon, I will tell if I can't handle this!"

For someone completely tied up and immobilized, Harrow sure as hell could make an impression of an offended princess about to call guards to chain Gideon up. What an interesting idea- Fuck. Gideon shook that thought out of her head and looked over her work. Harrow was lying on her side on the floor, adorned with silky black ropes. Hands neatly fixed behind her back, wrist of one hand tied to the elbow of the other one; on her chest - a simple arrangement of ropes twisted and intertwined at the center of her sternum, threads parting and weaving above and below her breasts. Another loop around her middle, with a knot on the side, and more ropes coiling around her thighs and tying ankles to them.

Still deliciously naked, dressed just in ropes and spots of bright blush covering her face and chest, Harrow was wound up beyond any reason, thoroughly edged and granted just one orgasm before Gideon decided take out a hank of ropes out of her pocket with declaration that it was time to change positions. Her head was too clouded with all the charged up tension to complain that she was fine with lying on the floor, her entire body buzzing with electric signals surging in waves through her skin from wherever Gideon touched her. It was an indescribable pleasure, to be depraved of stimulation, given scraps of Gideon's contact on her skin, to be rendered so completely immobile that her only options were to demand from Gideon to stop fucking around or wait for Gideon to do that on her own. She had trouble formulating any thoughts, much less words and coherent complaints, and so she just lied on her side and squeezed her thighs together once Gideon was done with putting ropes on them, dying to feel more friction between her legs.

Gideon was finished with the knots shortly, pulling the ropes through each, tying them together and putting them through the ceiling hook. She kicked away the chair she stood on to do that, cast the last affirmative glance at Harrow and pulled.

Harrow felt herself being lifted up in the air, the cool, silky threads straining against her skin, her weight spread evenly on the ropes hanging her body from the knots on her thigh, on her middle and her shoulders. But she paid little attention to this sudden mix of lightness and gravity, her eyes focused on Gideon holding the ropes as she pulled them and pulled until Harrow was more than a meter above the floor. She was so absolutely sure that Gideon was flexing on her, readily, smugly demonstrating muscles on her arms bulging as she lingered, standing in one spot and holding the ropes strained under Harrow's weight in her hands effortlessly before she fixing the threads to the metal ring on the floor with a cuff still attached to it. Harrow swallowed and dug fingernails into her palms tied on her back as she watched Gideon working her quick fingers on the last knot and grinning to herself, surely thinking many obscene thoughts in the moment.

Her grin turned wolfish once she got up and caught the sight of Harrow hung up in the same position she was lying on the floor less than a minute ago. She walked closer to Harrow and let the moment of raw, electrified desire sparkle between them, her golden gaze feasting on Harrow's body. Shameless, Gideon looked between Harrow's thighs parted involuntarily, feeling her mouth watering at the sight of Harrow's wet labia turned deep pink color; then let out an excited exhale as she observed how Harrow's bound ribs heaved from deep breaths, soft pale stomach trembling with each. In the end of her examination, Gideon reached to cup Harrow's cheek and checked on her goth princess once again - by now there was no point in not admitting that Gideon intensely enjoyed seeing the results of her work on Harrow's pointy, vicious face. Last smears of the lipstick still clung to her chin and half-opened mouth, and Gideon had no doubt it wouldn't take long to get rid of them now. Her eyebrows were doing a funny thing as Harrow was trying frown at her, but ended up with a needy, pleading expression instead. By some inexplicable miracle, her eyeliner was cutting-edge perfect just like in the moment when Gideon opened the door and saw an adorable wraith wrapped in black before her.

Feeling giddy from having such leisurely access to Harrow's body, Gideon brushed her fingertips on her thigh, still slick with all the lube she generously applied earlier. Harrow shuddered from the touch, her frantic movements causing her to swing on the ropes helplessly, unable to push herself closer to Gideon's hand or shy away from it. Gideon's fingers danced on the skin of her inner thigh, sensitive enough to make Harrow curl her toes and arch her spine in futile expression of her sheer need for touch, but still not acute enough to satiate the ever growing heat of lust in her lower belly.

From there on, Harrow could only take Gideon's touch however Gideon pleased, squirming in ropes in hopeless display of want. Gideon's fingers slid along her puffy labia majora, the glimpse of pressure on the clit making Harrow flinch and exhale loudly, trying to chase more of it, showing to Gideon how she needed exactly that, and more, so much more. She would take teasing for stimulation at this point, her body slack on the ropes, her head hanging down to the side, able only to arch her spine back and forth in attempts to keep Gideon's fingers on her.

A sobbing moan escaped Harrow's lips once Gideon took mercy on her, done with toying with her rather quickly, her agile fingers sliding between Harrow's labia and gently rolling her clitoris between fingertips. She put her free hand on Harrow's cheek, supporting her head - which was incredibly nice and sweet of her, Harrow thought distantly, her thighs quaking in useless attempts to close and lock Gideon's hand between them so she didn't dare withdrawing it from her. But Gideon was sweet all the way now, she wasn't teasing Harrow no more, rubbing her clit in small, precise frictions and watching attentively how Harrow responded to each motion with eyes full of liquid gold, etching into the back of her retinas the sight of Harrow's expression morphing from capricious impatience to relieved pleasure.

Harrow enjoyed the pressure of Gideon's fingers between her legs intensely, the pinpoint stimulation of the fingertips intimately circling around her clitoris and gently pressing on it from sides casting wide echoes of fiery sensations in her entire body. She mewled quietly, embarrassed to be so visibly undone before Gideon's unrelenting gaze, unashamed of the sheer joy she felt when Gideon pressed her hot hand closer to her, meeting her helpless writhing on the ropes, ensuring that Harrow's raw need for her touch was met in kind. 

Gideon slid her other hand down Harrow's cheek, caressing the slender, tense neck below and settling it by her breasts, trailing the lines of the ropes on the sternum. She had to bite her lower lip as she felt how Harrow's nipple tightened between her thumb and index finger - simple physiology, uncomplicated in its obscenity, these responses always made Gideon breathe a little harder. Many of Harrow's reactions to her were like that: breaths sucked in through teeth, soft nasal noises of exhales, rising trembles in her bound thighs, her slick and hot vulva getting only slicker and hotter under Gideon's fingers, full-body flinches causing Harrow to swing on the ropes from side to side slightly, eyebrows moving together in a frown of concentration and rising in silent pleas. 

It was just Harrow's eyes that were a mystery, the lightless black holes outlined with sharp makeup, from which no particle of her desperation escaped no matter how diligently Gideon made her to moan and squirm in her restraints, and enchanted, Gideon could not look away.

The ropes stung, the silky pressure against Harrow's joints edging on the verge of burning, the feeling akin to standing under a shower just a degree hotter than comfortable. In sharp contrast, Gideon's touch was like the comforting feeling of warm fleece against bare skin. Harrow twisted in the ropes, trying to push her hips onto Gideon's hand so she could get more of it and, following this motion swiftly, Gideon slipped two fingers into Harrow, causing her to emit a quiet, surprised _"Oh"_ at that.

Gideon grinned when she felt Harrow clenching around her fingers just after a couple of frictions, yet another of her through-teeth-moans sounding like the loudest praise to her efforts. With her index and middle busy with prodding at Harrow's G-spot, Gideon quickly put her thumb back to the clit, the stimulations in sync with the motions of her wrist. 

Keening, Harrow was blinded briefly by the initial wave of sensations splashing and rolling through her body, and then forced herself to lift her head and open her eyes and watch. Gideon stood by her, relaxed and still outrageously not undressed in any way, her hideous mouth crooked lopsidedly as she nonchalantly flicked her wrist and twisted her fingers inside Harrow easily. The pleasure from this action was split: half of it came from the feeling of Gideon's fingertips brushing and pressing into the walls of her vagina and Gideon's thumb rubbing her clit at the same time, and half of it came from the sheer aesthetic delight of watching Gideon's muscles and tendons work on her arm with the goal of spoil her rotten.

Gideon's rhythm was good, adjusting to Harrow's reactions easily. She pushed her fingers into Harrow deeper as Harrow dared to exhale and let her tense muscles slack a little. She pressed them firmer against her G-spot, feeling Harrow instantly squeezing the digits with her wet, slick cunt and not letting Gideon pull out, riding the momentum of her pleasure. Exhausted from tremors and ever ascending tension in her muscles, Harrow mediated between giving in to the involuntary spasms and having to relax in the ropes, swaying from side to side from her own squirming and Gideon's motions, acutely feeling her own weight making the silk threads to cut into her skin and completely void of gravity everywhere else.

She heard Gideon murmuring quietly, _"Good girl"_ , reverent, despite doing all the work for Harrow, so she must have liked how Harrow reacted to her, must have liked what she was seeing with her freaky honey-colored eyes. The unexpected praise somehow made the sensations sharper and brighter, and Harrow clenched around the fingers crooked inside her hard, attempted to rub her clit against Gideon's thumb the best she could, all the viscous heat pooled between her legs threatening to spill as it was reaching the critical mass rapidly.

"Gideon, I-" Harrow heard herself saying, voice weak, her belly trembling, needing Gideon to know how close she was. Inexplicably, she _heard_ Gideon grinning, felt how pleased the redhead was with herself, and so she hurried to add unthinkingly: "If you dare to edge me now, I'm gonna kick you in the teeth and leave."

Maybe her tone was a little unnecessarily harsh and cold. But she was in such raw need for release, so out of control for it, who would blame her for being a little cranky?

Gideon wouldn't.

Instead, taken aback by the peremptory demand ringing in Harrow's voice loudly, Gideon laughed. It was a nice and melodic, if a little nasal sound, communicating her bewilderment, her infatuation with Harrow's attitude. She couldn't stop after the initial burst, silly giggles falling from her lips like sparks from a naked wire. She felt so full with adoration, watching Harrow strain her hands and twist her body in the ropes, indignant and outraged, desperate and needy, and ultimately, trusting her, Gideon, not to let her down. And so Gideon readily kept up with her motions, delighted to feel Harrow so wet and hungry on her fingers, her cunt spasming around them so hotly. She put her free palm to her vulva, too, allowing herself to fingerfuck Harrow into oblivion without depraving her clit of attention, and she did that exactly, sliding her fingers in and out as Harrow squeezed her tighter and tighter.

Eyes screwed shut, moans bitten down harshly, Harrow willed her body to still, high strung on ropes and all built-up tension, all her focus fixed on Gideon's fingers on her, inside her, transmitting warm pleasure onto her receptors until it overflowed her and spilled. She cried, her spine arching involuntarily like a bow string released, her senses in uproar, flooding her limbs with the sweetest of aches nerve by nerve, and she cried again as Gideon's fingertips kept rubbing at her G-spot gently, frictions stalled from how tightly her walls were clenched. It was almost too much to bear, and Harrow thrashed in her restraints again, long, muffled noises coming from her closed mouth, and it was as if Gideon understood her and slowed down until her touch became feathery and she stood by Harrow suspended in air with the biggest, dumbest smile on her face.

Carefully watching Harrow struggling to catch her breath and out of brain power to process that she was still tightly bound and suspended in air, Gideon brushed her palms up and down Harrow's thighs and back and chest, granting her some more stimulation. Minor as it was, the touch made her afterglow linger delightfully, as if Gideon's hands were a superconductor to pure tactile pleasure. The first thing Harrowhark saw once she was capable of opening her eyes, was Gideon's wide, blinding grin, and Harrow rolled her eyes at the predictability of that.

"How was that, my sweet?" That awful grinning woman asked her nonchalantly as she stepped away to the ring on the floor and started undoing the knot on it, quickly grabbing the rope that held Harrow's body as soon as she loosened it just a bit. She pulled it slightly with the motion, causing Harrow to sway, adding to the post-orgasm lightness she felt in her head and body.

Harrow processed the question slowly, unable to look away from the way Gideon swiftly coiled the rope around her wrist, slender compared to the muscle mass on her forearm and shoulder, the brachioradialis, the biceps and the deltoid pronounced and bulging under the strain of Harrow's weight so aesthetically. Gideon's hands _were_ an instrument of pleasure, she thought rather dumbly and gulped. What did Gideon ask her, again?

"It was fulfilling and exhilarating," she found her voice and even convinced it not to tremble. "You are incredibly skillful in this field."

Gideon chuckled, Harrow's on brand choice of words amusing her, but the unambiguity of the praise did cause a small eruption of ecstatic joy inside her.

Instead of letting Harrow down onto the floor as she expected, Gideon kept her suspended as she walked close to her, pulling the rope to keep her on the level. It still staggered Harrow how easily Gideon could do that with just one hand, and having her brain occupied with that left her completely unprepared to the moment when Gideon quickly put her arms under her, lifting Harrow upright and pressing her chest to chest to herself. Her limbs still thoroughly bound, Harrow had a brief moment of instinctual fear of falling down and she squeezed Gideon's middle with her thighs as means to hold onto her, but Gideon already had a tight grip on her, ensuring everything was okay - so okay that she could even flick Harrow's ruffled hair out of her eyes with a free hand as she stared into Harrow's deep black eyes with affection.

"Short break and then next act?" Gideon asked her, voice dropped down to murmur.

On her bare skin, through the layer of Gideon's clothes, Harrow acutely felt the nuclear heat of Gideon's body pressed close to hers, the fullness of the contact she was deprived of before clouding her head terribly. Gideon smelled nice, reminiscent of cakes and honey, and her chest was nicely squished against hers, and she watched Harrow with her eyes with pupils blown so wide that, if not for those slim rims of yellow irises around, Harrow could mistake those eyes for hers.

Awaiting for her princess to struggle her brain into functioning, Gideon tried her best to get distracted with some nonsense so she wouldn't lunge down and kiss Harrow right away. Harrow insisted on not doing that unless she herself prompted it, and Gideon whined on the inside from having to comply.

She kind of liked complying to Harrow's demands, actually-

Gideon shook her head, trying to get that bang of hair out of the way again. Seriously, what the hell was Harrow's eyeliner? It was as if it was applied literally five seconds ago, now looking almost comical on Harrow's face with cheeks flushed and forehead shining with sweat.

Her breaths deepening, calming down, Harrow finally said:

"Yes, Gideon. We're not finished yet."

So bossy. Gideon admitted to herself she was enjoying this date so much more than she anticipated that she did not know how she was going to let Harrow leave.


	4. Chapter 4

They started deviating from protocol as soon as Gideon unmade the bonds on Harrow, looking critically at the ceiling hook, the ropes in her hands, her submissive goth struggling to stand upright with her knees drawn together awkwardly, and then stopping her eyes at the chair that she kicked away previously. It just stood there, lonely, seeming hurt from such mistreatment, and Gideon had a tiny twinge of irrational guilt about it, and then, an idea. That was the explanation how instead of getting hung up by hands as previously planned, Harrow found herself in the most comfortable position yet - in Gideon's lap.

Her back pressed to Gideon's chest firmly, now she had her hands tied before her, elbows bent, wrists bound together and fixed to a knot on her sternum with a short rope. When rearranging the bonds, Gideon thought it would be funny to make it seem like Harrow was praying while she pressed the vibe to Harrow's oversensitive clit and dragged her palm up her trembling thighs and stomach, holding her in place, though, the joke was completely lost on Harrow as she moaned and thrashed in Gideon's hands, getting quickly overwhelmed with tactile sensations. 

She basked in the heat of Gideon's body so close to her, throwing head back onto her shoulder and letting Gideon lap on her neck with her soft, hot tongue, her breaths ticklish against the wet skin and delightful. The vibrations rocked through her pelvis, reverberating in deep, oppressive buzz that she felt on the tips of her receptors and deep in her core with the same intensity. Each time Gideon pressed the wand closer to her clit, Harrow tensed up, cried out in raspy voice and tried to - couldn't - get away from the relentless stimulation just to catch her breath. Gideon masterfully moderated Harrow's squirming in her lap, shamelessly delighting in full body contact again, getting affected by feeling the imprints from the ropes on Harrow's skin, by Harrow's weightless frame quaking with pleasure in her hands.

Gideon was mildly worried about her impulse to change the plan of the session Harrow cautiously laid out to her. The final act was supposed to be about letting Harrow hang on the ropes and simmer in afterglow, barely touched. Instead, she got greedy, got hungry for her, led on by the impression that Harrow was getting exhausted, that she was still starved for contact and pleasure, thinking it was merely considerate to let her sub to rest in her hands. She dragged her lips along Harrow's neck now, Harrow's scent tickling her nostrils and not helping her concentrate, trying to figure out on the fly if this was okay with her date. Of course Harrow, being served richly by Gideon's attentive hands and hardworking vibe motor, sounded and felt like she was enjoying herself right now, but Gideon's sole task was to carry out Harrow's deep, kinky fantasies the way she wanted, and she couldn't be sure if Harrow welcomed the improvisations.

This wasn't how usually those hook ups went for her.

"How are you holding up, my sweet?" Gideon blurted out eventually, out of ideas how to check with Harrow without using words.

Harrow's pulse beat in her carotid under Gideon's lips. She rested her head on Gideon's shoulder, heavy-lidded eyes turned up, unfocused, lips parted and trembling. Hearing Gideon's voice, she turned her face by reflex, and goosebumps ran down the redhead's spine as she felt the tip of Harrow's nose touching her neck and uneven, wet breaths tickling her skin. Harrow clenched her fists, sharp knucklebones whitening from the strain, and moaned instead of answering, thrusting her hips against the wand hard, and Gideon impulsively followed a cue to put her palm onto her breast and fondle it, just to make it feel better for Harrow.

Fuck, this wasn't helpful.

In Gideon's defense, Harrow wasn't making it any easier to pause and have a coherent conversation. She had her hands full, literally, with trying to contain Harrow's thrashing and twisting, each of Harrow's movements making Gideon want to hold her closer to her, feel each shiver and moan immediately as she tore them out of Harrow, dissatisfied with her supposed role of an impassive dominant merely observing her by now.

Maybe Harrow missed the question, Gideon wondered distantly, trying to concentrate and failing because Harrow discovered that her mouth was in very dangerous proximity with Gideon's neck and was celebrating that discovery by tormenting Gideon with her trembling lips and moans. It set Gideon's skin on fire, made her breath hitch and bite back a groan. She willed herself to get her shit together and put the wand away from Harrow, finally figuring out that it was a major source of distraction. Harrow let out a disappointed noise, turning her head up and breaking the spell her mouth was weaving on Gideon's neck, letting her breathe out and collect herself enough to repeat her inquiry. For some reason, the more time Gideon spent with Harrow on her lap and pressed firmly to her chest, the more she realized she was deathly afraid of screwing this session up by doing something that Harrow wouldn't approve of later when she wasn't out of her mind with lust.

"Harrow?" Gideon said then, voice gruff, yet adorned with a barely audible tremble in it.

The anthracite eyes found hers, thick lashes casting shadows over them. Gideon was enthralled, looking down at Harrow's face so close to hers, at her slanted mouth parting so invitingly, breath stuck in throat and unable to follow up on her question. Harrow stared at her intently, similarly enraptured by the golden glow of Gideon's eyes, so intimately aware how warm and firm Gideon's body was against her, how she cautiously supported her with her palm, how a corner of Gideon's lips yearned to curl up even now, how she wanted to busy Gideon's mouth with something else instead. The air between them cracked with charged up tension, anticipation of something to happen, something completely unscripted and unplanned for, thick and rippling within both of them.

They met in the middle, drawn to each other by forces neither of them could stop. Harrow lifted her face up to kiss Gideon as Gideon lunged down to kiss Harrow, the hot, wiped clean off lipstick mouth touching the punchable smirking one like a perfect conclusion to a theorem. The conclusion was that if you put a hot blacksmith dom with switching tendencies in one room with a brooding goth undergrad with bitchy attitude, they'll inevitably adhere to each other, entangle together in a dance of frenzied kisses and hungry touches.

Gideon turned off the vibe and dropped it to the floor, putting her freed palm to Harrow's still so wet cunt instead, yearning to feel her slickness and shudders under the pads of her fingertips once again, and Harrow licked and bit into Gideon's mouth, forceful in her desire, finding joy in the way Gideon gave in under her pressure with a grin, provocative, accepting her advance. Straining her bound hands, Harrow considered briefly this development, wondering if bringing up the deviation from the protocol was worth it. It felt so good to rest in Gideon's hands, not being tormented by impassionate, unrelenting stimulations from a sex toy, it was simply amazing to kiss Gideon and feel her kissing her back, but it seeded a tiny crumb of doubt now that she wasn't sure of what to expect anymore.

But she was confident that she wanted more of what they were having right now.

"Sorry for the little improv. Wanna follow the plan?" Sensing her qualms, Gideon whispered against her lips and couldn't resist this mouth now that she knew how it tasted, indulging herself and kissing Harrow hard before she could give her an answer. Harrow moaned, tense in her hands, on her fingertips flicking her clit and slipping inside her, and Gideon caught herself on this and parted their lips shortly. "Your call."

Up this close, Gideon made out where the edges of Harrow's black irises contained the blacker void of her blown out pupils, and held her breath, stunned by the sheer beauty of them. Her dumbstruck silence gave Harrow a much needed moment to think, to appreciate Gideon's enthralled, completely moronic expression as she watched her, to feel giddy from Gideon's palpable desire for her coming from the redhead in waves. This was enough of a confirmation to melt away the rising doubts. Her memory untactfully put Palamedes and his descriptions of Gideon into the foreground of her mind. A dork and a softie with arms thick as Harrow's thighs, fingers so agile that Harrow ached in her cunt at mere thought of them, a grin so insufferable that the best way to get rid of it was to kiss it and drag her full, puffy lower lip with teeth.

"Eat me," Harrow said, eyes fixed on that smirk faltering in response to her suggestion briefly, golden eyes widening in disbelief. "Wreck me like you want to, Gideon." Her lips split in a wretched smile, blood pumping in her veins as she watched her words affecting Gideon.

She twisted in Gideon's lap, trying to turn around to face her, clutching her bound hands on Gideon's tanktop and reaching to kiss her again while Gideon still had this stupid expression on her face. Gideon regained control of herself, lifting Harrow up by her hips and letting Harrow straddle her, pressing the light body closer and rubbing her palms on Harrow's spine, quick to glue herself to Harrow once more.

Who was in charge here, again?

Gideon dragged both palms up Harrow's skinny sides, distracting her with a deep kiss, licking into her mouth and unsubtly demonstrating a small fraction of her oral skills. She wanted to devour her whole, and gears in Gideon's head rotated in attempt to come up with a way to switch Harrow's mouth with her vulva without moving them both too much. The chair was pretty comfy, if only she could-

Oh yeah, she knew what to do.

She stretched out her legs and crossed them at shins, one heel planted into the wooden floor, and then she bent down, firmly holding Harrow in both hands to ensure she wouldn't let her fall. A brief flash of panic in Harrow's wide eyes, and Gideon tightened her grip, laying Harrow down on her back onto her outstretched legs. Realizing the change in position, Harrow's face assumed a surprised expression as she found herself looking at Gideon upside down, her hands clenched in fists before her, mouth agape in shock. The back of her head was pressed to Gideon's boots now, preventing her from sliding down Gideon's legs.

Gideon's palm squeezed Harrow's thighs, and then she yanked her by hips up and put her legs onto shoulders, holding Harrow in place with no effort. She smirked, looking down at her midnight princess, at her body strained and stretched out, at quivering thighs parted helplessly and offering Gideon her much deserved dessert. Harrow's breath fastened as she got agitated, watching Gideon swiping her bright pink tongue on her upper lip and her nostrils flaring, darkened gaze cast down and fixed between her legs, her expression full of predatory anticipation.

Who was in charge here, again?

" _Hh-ah.._ "

Harrow couldn't hold back a gasp as she watched Gideon bowing down to her. She realized that she felt terribly tender in her groin, the ruthless intense vibrations still feeling like a bit too much even after a break, and Gideon's smooth, impossibly hot tongue swiped on her labia in the most soothing manner. Gideon licked both labia majora up and down, getting familiar with them, making Harrow's legs twitch in response and her mouth emit those abrupt, strained "Ahh"s and "Ohh"s. Harrow barely noticed the noises coming from her, too enraptured by the shameless spectacle Gideon was putting up for her.

Gideon gripped Harrow's sides, holding her in place easily, muscle and sinew bulging under the tanned skin, contrasting with Harrow's lighter flesh prettily. Unconcerned with this ongoing endurance exercise, she kept her neck bent in a reverent bow, her tongue lolling out of her mouth and gliding on Harrow's cunt, slicking her with drool and lubrication. Her hair fell over her eyes, and Gideon visibly wanted to shake it off but didn't dare break her focus and tear her mouth or hands away from her, so she had to make peace with unruly red bangs, eyebrows knit together in a concentrated frown that instantly smoothened out as she peered down and noticed Harrow staring.

At the eye contact, Gideon's expression changed slightly, bright yellow eyes narrowing as her cheeks tightened from a smile, meeting Harrow's intense black gaze. It was good that she caught Harrow on watching her, because then Gideon could close her eyes with a happy sigh and press her mouth to her cunt in a tender, blissed out kiss. 

Every little detail of the show burned into Harrow's retinas. Gideon started low, sucking the labia in between her lips with a wet noise, and slid her mouth up the slit of the vulva, her tongue appearing to at the end of the maneuver to lick against the clit. She disengaged and did it again, pressing her tongue firmer, in a more demanding manner. At the third stroke, she peered down at Harrow again, liquid gold glinting from under dark red lashes, inquiring silently: was Harrow pleased with her mouth? Did Gideon live up to her expectations? Did she like what she was seeing? Harrow clutched her tied hands before her, her upside down position making blood rush to her face, surely making it difficult to properly appreciate Gideon's endeavors. Understanding it, Gideon was quick to compensate by intermittently flicking the tip of her tongue against the clitoris and gently sucking on it, with intent to overwhelm and make her performance the most memorable one out of this session. Hell, scratch that, Gideon wanted to make it so good that Harrow wouldn't be able to merely look at her tongue without longing to feel it on her cunt again.

Harrow's eyes rolled in sockets, her thighs shaking so hard that one of her legs slid off Gideon's shoulder. It was no trouble to Gideon, and Harrow did not notice that at all, every bit of her attention focused on what Gideon's agile tongue and hot lips were doing to her clitoris. Gideon prepped her by forcefully sucking the entire area, rolling the swollen clit, its hood and puffy labia majora between her lips. Then she finished the move by gliding her tongue alongside the wet labia and fluttering it until Harrow gave in to the trembles, jerking her hips, moans reaching a high note and disrupting as Gideon switched back to sucking on her again, resuming the cycle.

Implacable to Harrow's increasingly pleading moans, Gideon ate her out like that, bullying her clit into another orgasm even more efficiently than the wand, precise and reactive in the way she applied her touches. And she dared to smirk at Harrow while doing this, regardless of what she did at the moment, pressing lips to hers firmly with her nose squished against the pubes funnily or giving Harrow a break and disengaging, demonstrating her hot pink tongue lolling out of her mouth and touching her oversensitive clitoris with the very tip before burrowing itself between the labia again. It didn't matter, the corners of Gideon's mouth were always lifted up in a grin, her entire face lit with an expression of smug satisfaction. Harrow had no idea that anyone could look so horribly pleased with themselves, so unfairly fucking _hot_ while giving head. 

It made Harrow's insides jolt and squirm, made her feel like eating her was the highest fucking privilege, like Gideon was the only one worthy of having a treat like Harrowhark.

She thought distantly of laying herself on a bed, her legs spread invitingly before Gideon, touching herself while depraving Gideon of such pleasure at the same time, allowing her only to watch. Now that would be fun.

With the image of Gideon's face frozen with hunger for her in mind, Harrow buckled her hips, and pressed her tied hands to her chest, a spasm running through her body with such violence that if not for Gideon's hands on her, she surely would fall down. A flare of orgasm bloomed in her groin, swelling and rushing up her spine as Harrow shook against Gideon's generous mouth, feeling waves of pinpricks of electric impulses on her skin. A groan stuck in her throat, the abrupt noise of her unraveling dying on her lips, and all she could feel was Gideon, holding her, licking her, watching her with those freaky eyes, centering the entire universe around her, Harrow, and making it spin around her in mad kaleidoscope of sensations.

The peak of her orgasm passed, expertly led by Gideon's tongue to its natural fall, ceasing Harrow's thrashing with it. With her chest full, Gideon allowed herself to bask in Harrow's afterglow with her, sliding her tongue on her, avoiding the overstimulated clit carefully, putting kisses on the skin of her inner thighs, and listened to Harrow's heavy, ragged breaths. She peered at her hot goth, unable to quell the wave of endearment as she watched her chest and belly going wild, the ropes around her ribs and wrists pressing into her skin over the fading pinkish imprints from the bonds for the previous scene, cheeks flushed with blood and forehead shiny with sweat. Harrow was biting her lips again between loud exhales, still agitated (not that Gideon wasn't the reason for that, feeling the fading quivers in Harrow's thighs under her tongue), and clenching her fists helplessly, but her burning anthracite eyes were fixed on Gideon's, somehow both mindless and intense at the same time.

The goddamned eyeliner was still sharp and perfect, and it was truly incongruous to focus on that in the moment.

Gideon bent down and pulled Harrow up with her, mindful of the strain in her legs from keeping them outstretched with Harrow's weight on them, very slowly. Harrow made a dissatisfied noise once she realized she was in vertical position in Gideon's lap again, her expression completely absent and thoughtless, and she tilted forward, obviously deciding that she preferred to lie for a little while, and that Gideon's chest and shoulder were a perfectly comfortable pillow. Gideon kind of melted on the inside.

They allowed each other a moment of silence, filled only with Harrow's slowing breaths as she came down from her high and slight dizziness from being held with her head down for pretty long and then forced to sit up. Gideon let herself brush her palms up Harrow's back, counting the knots on it, and put her fingers through Harrow's hair, already in such disarray that she surely wouldn't make it any worse, delighting in the feeling of silky, slightly damp with sweat bangs and massaging Harrow's scalp at the same time. Her scent was tickling Gideon's nostrils still, and Gideon was acutely aware of every of Harrow's hot breaths on her neck, and-

Oh shit, she was so fucking aroused from this all.

Gideon kept her touches soothing and light, thinking how to wrap this up. It wasn't uncommon for her to get riled up during sessions, and she usually solved this some by quality time alone with a vibe after she waved goodbye to her satisfied dates. Reciprocation was rarely the point of these hook ups, and she got more than enough pleasure in watching girls writhing in tight bondage at her whim.

"Hey, sugarlips?" She inquired, brushing Harrow's shoulder, fingers inching under the ropes and ready to start undoing the knots once she was sure Harrow welcomed that development. "How are you?"

Harrow grunted through her teeth, her mouth pressed somewhere between Gideon's neck and shoulder, and clutched the hem of Gideon's tanktop, her body limp against hers, trembling slightly. Gideon didn't notice how she started rocking back and forth as she waited for Harrow to get a hold of herself well enough to have a more or less productive conversation, kind of enjoying this quiet moment between them, massaging the back of Harrow's neck, counting the vertebrae sharply protruding on it with her fingers.

No response for a while - Gideon already concluded that the action was smoothly transitioning into aftercare, mellowing out and hiding a sly smile as she readied herself to enjoy Harrow's blissed sighs and expressions from it. But just as soon as her fingers hooked under one of the knots, Harrow suddenly flinched her her entire body, sitting up straight from her relaxed position, her mouth finding Gideon's and locking her in a hard, heated kiss.

"Mffm??" Gideon made a dumb noise into it, her eyes opening wide. Harrow had a glassy stare, like she was acting on autopilot, but as she pushed her tongue into Gideon's mouth, her eyebrows moved together in a frown of such determination that Gideon had never seen on a woman she just fucked breathless.

"I want-" Harrow managed to say between her bite-kisses, but was unable to keep away from Gideon's lips for too long. Gideon felt swift fingers inching down the hem of her tanktop. "I want to taste you," Harrow breathed out eventually, "get rid of your pants immediately."

Gideon blinked once, slowly, her hands going still on Harrow, her mouth hanging open, feeling like an idiot.

The request - _demand_ \- was so out of blue that she had some trouble figuring out her initial reaction to it, much less how to respond. She bit back the snark and didn't point out the obvious state of things, such as Gideon holding all ropes in her hands, quite literally, and Harrow supposedly rendered completely passive and bound. They've blurred the whole dom and sub thing between them throughout the session so many times already, and Gideon was able to admit that she wasn't quite in charge now, much to her shame. She was supposed to make sure Harrow had good and safe time with her kinks instead of indulging herself, she was supposed not to let the action stray away from the actions both agreed on beforehand, she was supposed to be in control of someone who wanted to give up on control over their body. So Gideon opened her mouth to point that out, to deny Harrow gently and explain it, apologize even, and-

The black holes of Harrow's eyes magnetized Gideon's once again, capturing her in inescapable gazing of the void that expressed her desire to devour her so candidly. Gideon swallowed all words that her brain attempted to scramble up, losing this argument before she even said anything. Harrow's look did not suggest in the slightest that she was unsure in what she wanted, that quiet, fiery resolution glinting in her dark eyes as she licked her lips, the tip of her tongue appearing from between them shortly. The next moment she leaned away with a cruel smile creeping onto her face and sat up straight before willing her still shaking limbs into obeying an order to slide down the chair and kneel on the floor before Gideon, both hands clutching to fabric of Gideon's pants to keep herself steady.

Gideon felt like she was falling, lost in the whirlpool of conflicting emotions coming from perpendicular angles. Her only point of fixation was Harrow on knees before her, pressing her sharp chin to her thigh, her only obsession was the way Harrow looked up at her. Black eyes like a leash to her neck. Hands tied together like a prayer to her. Who was in charge here? They had it back and forth, and Gideon wasn't such a good liar to convince herself she didn't love it that way, didn't want it just about as much as Harrow did. All she had to do was to give in just a little.

She stood up from the chair then, Harrow's gaze darting up and following her motions, and felt herself smirking as she quickly unbuckled the belt of her pants and unzipped them. Her head clouded in fog, Gideon didn't think of putting up a show of her undressing as she pulled the pants down kicked off only one leg, letting them hang around the other one alongside with the underwear, not even bothering to take off the boots. 

Harrow's eyes went up and down, still treating it like a spectacle as she, quite frankly, was pretty fed up with being the only one naked here. She took in the sight of the uncovered skin and quickly admired the perfection that were Gideon's toned thighs, flustered by realization that down there Gideon was just as ginger and swallowing down a mouthful of drool.

"Treat yourself, darling," Gideon said from above with the worst grin audible in her voice. Harrow rolled her eyes instantly, because of course Gideon would say that. When did she get used to her attitude, how did she get so attached to it already? And why did she want more of it so much?

She yearned to find it out.


	5. Chapter 5

Harrow's mouth was the bright spot on the black-ashen palette of her body slumped on the floor before Gideon, luring Gideon's hungry, inquisitive gaze as her reddened lips parted and drew her attention to the pale pink tongue. It snaked up Gideon's bare thigh with mesmerizing movements, the tip gliding on the line between the thigh and the pubes with ticklish non-commitment to the touch. Something whined and protested inside Gideon as that tongue disappeared behind Harrow's lips shortly, then rumbled in anticipation as the glimpse of this agile pink muscle reappeared in sight again, gleaming wetly in overhead lights. Harrow shifted on her knees, making herself more comfortable and craning her neck, and held her bound hands close to her chest, adorable.

Abrupt inhale through teeth - Harrow's tongue slid between the labia, staggering Gideon with its marshmallow-like softness, making her knees grow weak. A hissing moan - it covered her clit, its texture hot and slick against it. A rasp, "Harrow, _fuck..._ " - and Gideon looked down in sudden raw need to _see:_ Harrow, her small tongue coyly tasting her and eyes glinting at her with dark brilliance from under heavy lids.

Gideon's body did not quite catch up with the action out of the habit of containing her arousal insulating her neurons in deep slumber until the end of a session. She was hot with lust, she wanted Harrow to eat her, but kept her desires in suspense, and it was a surprise how much the contact surprised her, sending shivers down her spine with a half second delay. As Gideon watched how Harrowhark lapped at her cunt in small licks, evoking pleasant jolts of stimulation rushing through her skin, her brain struggled to process it in time, lagging with a shocked, overjoyed _"Wait, what, we're going now? Wow!"_ , which was kind of embarrassing of her, by the way.

Once she processed this untimely clash between expectations and reality, it was so worth to dedicating her undivided attention to, though. 

Harrow dutifully familiarized herself with the clitoris, each swipe of her smart tongue over it making Gideon even more aware how neglected she felt this whole time. The goth couldn't stop her lips from stretching in a cruel smile as soon as she found out how wet Gideon was down there, her juice covering the tongue thickly, as if she was already eating Gideon for half an hour and merely took a break for a couple of seconds. Poor thing, Harrow thought with an ecstatic roll of her eyes as she realized how badly Gideon must have needed that, fluttering her tongue over swollen clitoris and feeling how muscles on Gideon's thighs started to shake in response.

She pitied Gideon for her sorry, soaked through state; she admired her restraint and sheer ability to endure such arousal. Harrow was left with an impression that Gideon wouldn't even voice it, she'd just untie her with a grin and a starved, crazed glint in her golden eyes, had Harrowhark not decided to steer further away from her own plan of this date. Such quality was worthy of a praise, Harrow thought, squinting from pleasure of hearing Gideon already panting and hissing above her. 

And so, her mouth conveyed those silent, eloquent praises to Gideon as she licked her up and down. There were _"Good girl"_ and _"Thank you for your service"_ and _"Moan for me, bitch"_ , spelled with her lips enveloping Gideon's clit, sucking, pulling, with her tongue rubbing against it hard.

Gideon _loved_ praises, turned out, moaning as ordered, pushing her hips forward and shamelessly riding Harrow's tongue. Harrow wished she thought of telling Gideon out of her tanktop as well, imagining that fully naked, Gideon was a sight to behold: all lean muscle, with waist narrowing just enough to invoke pictures of legs around it in Harrow's head, wide hips and thick thighs inherently threatening to necks and heads that happened between them.

And with just her mouth, Harrow was reducing her to the state of whimpering mess.

"Harrow. Harrow," Gideon whispered above her, feeling incandescently hot where Harrow's wet tongue was doing her vile spells on her, setting all of her nerves ablaze with each move. She put her hand onto Harrow's head, the cool silk of black hair on her fingers contrasting with this hellfire nicely, pushing Harrow closer to her, and then - she dared to look down.

Solid black eyes met hers and locked her like a Gorgon. Harrow looked pretty hot on her knees and her face pressed to pubes, Gideon couldn't resist making a note on this. But as she noticed Gideon staring, the solemn concentration in her expression sharpened, the slithering movements of her tongue just barely hitching in the meanwhile, and Harrow's whole expression turned into something else entirely.

Petrified, Gideon couldn't turn away, adrenaline boiling blood in her veins and making her feel hot and cold, excited and frightened at the same time. With her hands tied together, with her reddened mouth on Gideon, her delicate and fragile Harrow somehow managed to look as dangerous as a praying mantis, the obsidian void of her eyes devouring Gideon whole. That was a look of a woman who could easily kill her, but chose to play the game, pretend to be bound and obedient instead and please her, silently telling Gideon how deliberate was that act. It sent shivers down Gideon's spine.

"You're so damn good, Harrowhark," she said, breathless, feeling pinpricks of electric pleasure rushing through her nerves and making her fingers twitch.

Thick dark lashes fluttered as Harrow blinked at the praise, her severe expression softening, suddenly earnest and vulnerable, and Gideon almost lost it at that. Constant back and forth. Did she find her perfect switch in this goth nun?

Realizing the terrible weakness in her knees, Gideon blindly found the chair behind her with her hand, moved it closer and, alarming Harrow, sat down.

"No worries, my sweet, continue," she murmured and beckoned Harrow to follow her. 

Watching Harrow move on her knees towards her, Gideon discarded her pants entirely, kicking them off as she set her thighs apart in invitation. As soon as Harrow obediently put her chin on the wooden seat, looking real pretty and disheveled between Gideon's thighs, Gideon promptly put one leg onto Harrow's shoulder, pulling her closer. Harrow hunched slightly, eyes widening in outraged surprise, even though Gideon applied near zero pressure onto her frail frame, and Gideon mindlessly put her hand onto Harrow's head to pet her in reassurance.

Harrow took a moment to process this position, alarmed at the feeling of the rough boot sole pressed onto the bare skin of her back and the steadying, delicious heat of Gideon's thigh against her cheek. Above, Gideon was looking down at her with a thrilled expression, blown pupils of her eyes almost hiding the gold in them, eager what Harrow would do to her next. A warm sensation rushed down Harrow's stomach as she realized how sincere and excited Gideon was for her, how she was down for everything Harrow did so far.

She'd be damned if she managed to disappoint her dom now.

With these thoughts, she bowed down to Gideon again and put her mouth to work. She muted out her growing fatigue, discomfort in her knees and the rigid coldness in her motionless fingers, focusing her attention only on Gideon, her taste and scent prevailing among the incoming stimulations, her moans and twitches guiding Harrow's actions.

Gideon was so easy to please, so responsive and vocal about what she liked. She murmured and swore, buckled her hips and trembled, convulsively pressed Harrow's head closer and patted her hair, and all Harrow had to do was to kiss her sweetly and diligently. Even though she was never a fan of excess, Harrow found herself wanting everything Gideon was giving her, and more, ravenous for Gideon's reactions to her. What would she do if Harrow licked her up and down, hard? She would mewl and sprawl herself on the chair, pushing her hips up and offering her cunt for Harrow to continue. What about teasing her, dragging her tongue down and slipping the tip of it inside Gideon, what would she do then? She would taste sweet and tangy, and grow quieter, biting her lower lip fretfully, and she would regret about Harrow's bound hands because she'd be thinking how she could have Harrow's fingers in her in this moment. What if Harrow sucked her clit suddenly between licks? Oh, Gideon would promptly cover her eyes with her hand with a long groan, tendons taut on her neck, tension high in every quivering fiber of her gorgeous, muscular body.

"Don't stop," Gideon said, rasp voice barely audible, "please." 

Her jaw was getting tired, sore even, but Harrow kept on with short and fast licks through it, too entranced and invested to afford even a hitch. What would Gideon look like once Harrow finally brought her to her melting point and watched her unravel on her tongue?

Gideon cried out suddenly, her leg around Harrow's shoulder spasming and squeezing it painfully. Her hand slid under the tanktop and she grabbed her breast, stagnant breath coming out with a hiss through her teeth. Harrow's delicate tongue flicked against her clit _just right_ , like the lightest tap to the tail of a Batavian drop, and it shattered the stress tension within Gideon's body, her neurons exploding into glass dust of sensations. Her grip grew harsh on Harrow's hair, uncontrolled, as she pressed Harrow's face between her legs and rubbed herself against that mouth hard, riding it with her orgasm. Surprised black eyes snapped open, watching her as Gideon finally breathed out with a noise, sweat shining on the cleavage of the tanktop as her chest heaved with need for oxygen, and she briefly spaced out completely.

In the very next moment, Harrow, the cause of her violent undoing, became the anchor point for her existence, a solid obsidian presence for Gideon to latch onto and come back whole from her high. Gideon inhaled, panting, baffled how she still somehow held onto the chair and didn't fall on the floor with all the twisting and spasming she just hand, and- oh shit, Harrow, she urgently needed to relax her leg and let go of Harrow's neck.

Unperturbed by the narrowly dodged danger to her vertebrae, Harrow looked at Gideon's face directly, with raw, unfiltered amazement, so intense and radioactive that it would make better women than Gideon decay into a shy, embarrassed puddle in seconds. There was a tiny smudge on one wing of her eyeliner now, on the side that was pressed to Gideon's thigh this whole time, and somehow, ruined integrity of Harrow's makeup felt like the most outrageous thing Gideon did to her today. And it was a blessing that Harrow didn't see it, nor cared for it now, sitting upright before Gideon with a triumphant, harsh glare, her reddened mouth quirking in a badly suppressed smile and her wet chin pointing forward as she smugly tilted her head up.

"Shit, this was stellar," Gideon heard herself responding on autopilot to this silent exchange of looks they were having. "Now I want cuddles. Are you on board with cuddles? Come here, I'm so good at cuddles, you just have to know," she rambled and patted her knee, still not entirely there but suddenly ravenous for more Harrow in her hands.

Experiencing a powerful feeling of pride for rendering someone like Gideon to the state of an absolute idiot, wanting immediately more of that and of Gideon's reverent approval, Harrow unthinkingly attempted to stand up. Her knees ached from being subjected to the hard wooden floor, and it was difficult to balance herself with her hands still tied, but of course that was nothing compared to her elated mood right now, and unfazed, Harrow-

-promptly fell onto Gideon as soon as she assumed vertical position.

Gideon made a rather lame noise of surprise, noticed the whites of Harrow's rolled up eyes and bolted out of the chair, catching her super unconscious date with both hands, heartrate spiking at fear of letting her collide with the floor.

"Harrow?" She asked in confusion and lightly shook her by shoulders. Harrow's head bobbed back and forth rather threateningly, and Gideon instantly stopped, terrified.

Harrow was out cold and limp in Gideon's hands. Gideon dumbly looked around as if someone could materialize in her home and explain her what happened, her living room empty and absolutely unhelpful, and turned to Harrow again, contemplating how quickly she should have started panicking. She checked Harrow's pulse and breath (both present, seemingly normal), gave her living room another helpless glance, squeezing Harrow close to her chest, and decided on relocating Harrow somewhere more comfortable and calling someone to help (a certain nerd in glasses was first in line in her mind).

It felt silly to walk to her bedroom butt-naked and stomping her heavy boots, still somewhat high from her orgasm, but this was overshadowed by the trepidation of how weightless Harrow was in her hands. Laying her down onto the bed, affrighted of accidentally dislocating any of Harrow's joints as she handled her frail body and untied her thin hands, Gideon was already cooking up a plan in her head to trick Harrow into eating protein-rich food and working out from now on. How did Harrowhark even function, like, physically?

Immensely distracted by these thoughts, about the possibility of future interactions with Harrow, about how pretty, absolutely princess-like she looked sprawled on the sheets of Gideon's bed, begging to be awakened with a kiss, Gideon fumbled out of the bedroom. She grabbed and quickly put on her pants in the living room, looked for her cellphone on the misplaced furniture there and in the kitchen before finding it in the pocket of the pants, and, almost running out of the kitchen, stopped by the fridge to grab a bottle of water for Harrow. Spontaneous faintings aside, dehydration was something Gideon knew to expect after sessions, and she stole a couple of gulps for herself while she walked back to the bedroom.

She found Harrow already conscious, squinting at her new surroundings with a mildly disdainful expression.

"Way to freak me out, babe," Gideon said, not hiding her relieved exhale. She approached the bed and sat on the edge of it, with a distance between them. "If you're allergic to cuddles, you could've just said so."

Harrow rubbed her eyes with her fists and looked at her free hands with alarmed interest. 

"How long was I out?" She asked, rasp. 

She sat up after some attempting, waving away Gideon's involuntary gesture to help, but agreeing to take the offered bottle of water. Gideon watched her spidery fingers gripping the bottle, her slim neck contracting as she downed half of it, wistful.

"A couple of minutes. Are you alright? Do I need to call an ambulance or something?"

Harrow shook her head.

"It's... nothing serious. Just orthostatic hypotension," she said, somewhat embarrassed now as the realization how she just passed out right after sex settled in. "I'm not allergic to cuddles," she added, quieter, massaging her wrists, where the ropes left pink imprints on her skin.

Silence in response was long and kinda awful. Harrow fidgeted, now properly ashamed of her body failing her like this, nervous of the possibility of Gideon now being disappointed in her, not wanting to touch her again. She mustered up courage to look up at her in this silence, and a single glance on Gideon's horrified face conveyed that her dom was very loudly thinking of asking Harrow if orthostatic hypotension was an STD of some sort and not knowing how to do it politely.

Harrow's right temple jolted with an echo of migraine.

"I have low blood pressure. When I stand up too quickly, I may faint because my cardiovascular system can't pump the blood up to my brain in time." Harrow couldn't keep out a waspish tone from her voice. "And this is exactly what happened. I'm fine, Gideon. Thank you for your concern," she added, softer, sincere.

It wasn't a small joy to watch Gideon's expression turn profoundly embarrassed of her insensitivity, though. But her vindication was short-lived as Gideon said reproachfully:

"You didn't think of warning me about something like that? For heaven's sake, Harrow, I flipped you upside down like a can of Pringles with the last chip stuck inside." 

There was a pause. Gideon's warm amber eyes magnetized her eyes, the scold not even registering and instead leaving Harrow with an impression of Gideon actually... giving a fuck about whether Harrow fainted or was alright afterwards. Which made sense, Harrow thought, with Gideon's "expertise" and all that.

"You're... right. I should have warned you," Harrow said, with a certain difficulty, and rubbed her wrist harshly, as if it did her ill in something. She narrowed her eyes at Gideon and added snappishly: "Never compare me to a can of Pringles again."

Gideon held her hands up in the air, but her mouth broke into a grin.

They regarded each other with long, slow glares. Neither ended up with something they could anticipate when they negotiated this supposedly casual, albeit spicy hook up. For the first time in seemingly forever, Harrow felt at ease and relaxed, despite now sitting naked in a bed of a woman she met only a couple of times before. And as for Gideon...

Gideon inched closer to Harrow on the bed and took her hands. She started massaging Harrow's palms and wrists, telling herself that fainting and a conversation that was a little bit too heartfelt wasn't an excuse to skip the aftercare, though the aftercare was a fantastic excuse to hold Harrow's tiny hand in hers.

"How are you then, in general?" She asked, gently squeezing Harrow's wrist between her fingers and slowly inching up the forearm. Harrow looked at this endeavor with a face of a surgeon interested in watching a new trick with a scalpel, which was a tiny bit unnerving.

"I'm good. But I'm really, really tired." Harrow suddenly took her hand away, fretful fingers twitching.

"No shit, this stuff is exhausting."

Harrow squinted at Gideon suspiciously who, on the contrary, glowed as if long and physically demanding sex recharged her battery. Each time their eyes met, the redhead brightened up, eyes sparkling with a combustible smile, and it drained what little remaining energy Harrow had left, making her want to find an excuse to stay there in her bed for longer that it was necessary.

"Do you," she gave it a shot, stumbled, tried again: "Do you mind if I crash here for a couple of hours? I need to... recuperate."

Harrow bit her lip, suddenly nervous of her excuse that wasn't even a lie. Gideon jumped up, standing upright, agitated. Her face tinted with rose blush all the way up to the ginger roots of her hair.

"Of course! Stay here for as long as you like, I'll, uh, take care of everything," Gideon stammered, turning to the closet and rummaging through it. "Here, take this - it's a bit big for you, but, um, at least it's black?"

Harrow quirked one eyebrow up at Gideon's stumbling speech and looked over her shirt she was offering her. She made sure their fingers brushed with each other when she took it from Gideon, and immediately put it on (to her disappointment, it smelled like fabric conditioner and not Gideon). Her fatigue overwhelmed her as soon as she crawled under the sheets, about to pass out for the second time. Gideon stood there, watching her with dumb expression, and before she fell asleep, Harrow called:

"Gideon."

Gideon perked up.

"Thanks. It was a lot better than I could even imagine," she mumbled. "I..."

She drifted off.

Gideon stood there for a solid minute, waiting for a continuation, like an idiot. She put her fingers through her hair, trying to get her thoughts together, but all she could think of was that Harrow was fast asleep in her bed, in her shirt, and thoroughly satisfied. 

What would she do once Harrow woke up?

She allowed herself to drag the blanket over Harrow's angular shoulder and brush her fingers on the soft black hair. Then she exited the room, her heart beating in her throat. First, she should have gone to the living room and put the furniture back in its place, unscrew the hooks on the floor, clean up the vibe and reel up the ropes, order some food for later and have a snack in the meanwhile because she was hungry-

Gideon did not do any of that yet, because she was looking at her phone, an outcoming call on display.

"Hi, Gideon," Palamedes's even voice rustled in the membrane, and Gideon flinched, breaking out of trance. She heard a speck of suspicion in her friend's tone. "How are you?"

Gideon paused, not unaware of the fact that Palamedes politely begged her to spare him the details of her sex life, but also was invested enough to want to know that his matchmade date went well. She leaned onto the doorframe to the living room and considered what to say, aggravating but not so much that he hangs up on her.

Really, there was only one thing. A wild smile bloomed on Gideon's face.

"Pal, you son of a bitch," she said solemnly. "I fell in love."


End file.
